


Midnight's Battle

by topazastral



Series: Our Love [3]
Category: High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Multi, and also guns, but there IS a lot of blood, pretty canon-typical violence, the pendragons are a battle polycule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 01:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topazastral/pseuds/topazastral
Summary: Arthur wakes up to an attack on his camp. Lancelot is missing.
Relationships: Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot (High Noon Over Camelot)
Series: Our Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207631
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Midnight's Battle

Arthur was pulled from his sleep by the sound of rapid gunshots. He counted them in his head as he threw aside his bedroll, groping blindly for his railgun.  _ Six. Seven. Eight. _ The corroded wasteland around him was dark, lit only by the blazing flashes of gunpowder. Through the night, he could see glimpses of bodies and limbs, rushing in seemingly random directions. He had set out guards, of course, but he doubted they were still alive.

He launched himself to his feet, face grim. Through the haze of battle, he could just about make out Gwen to his left, firing off shot after shot into what looked like a horde of Saxons. His camp was in disarray, people shouting unintelligible words. Arthur’s shirt was partially undone, hanging off his body like a loose skin, still damp with sweat from the moist air.

He sprinted to Gwen’s side, shooting off a quick round at a ghoul behind her. They fought back-to-back, movements fluid from years of practice.

“Where’s Lance?” he yelled over his shoulder.

Gwen hissed, a knife catching her arm. “Don’t know!”

Arthur ground his teeth together, a chipped edge briefly catching. The fight wasn’t pretty, and the darkness made visibility worse. Normally, he could spot Lance from anywhere, the lanky form as familiar to him as his own. Right now, though, he couldn’t see more than ten feet in any direction.

“Passed a canyon a while back!” Gwen hollered. “Let’s get ‘em pushed in that direction!”

Arthur nodded, even though he knew Gwen wouldn’t be able to tell. She’d understand anyways. He let out a short, piercing whistle. 

Heads picked up, leaning towards the sound as it rang out like another gunshot through the shambles of the camp _. _ His gunfighters started cutting paths towards him, and as they fought closer, he could see the blood coating their clothes and bodies. Whether it was theirs or the Saxons, he couldn’t say.

They formed a loose wedge, moving through the center of the ghouls and fanning out, driving the knife-fighters backwards.  _ Still no sign of Lance, _ Arthur thought. The Saxons were starting to retreat, which was something. They weren’t suited for close-quarters, protracted battles, but rather quick ambushes. Good. Arthur would make them bleed for their mistake.

By the time they reached the canyon, all but a few of the ghouls had fled. Arthur and Gwen’s fighters had them trapped, backs against the craggy drop. The ghouls fought desperately, lashing out at the people surrounding them. They edged further and further backwards until they had barely a few inches of ground to stand on. Arthur was about to send them plummeting over the precipice when a rough voice called out from behind them.

“We have your deputy!” screamed a battered ghoul, knife to Lancelot’s throat. “Let our people go and you can have yours!”

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. “Let’s be reasonable about this,” he called, hands still on his gun.

“Drop your weapons!” shouted the Saxon, dragging Lance to the canyon’s edge in three abrupt strides. “Or he falls too!”

Lancelot’s head lolled to the side, giving Arthur an even clearer view of the bloody wound just above his ear.  _ Fuck. _

Arthur’s heart raced in his weary chest as Lance gave him a half-grin. “I love--” he began to say, just as Guinevere appeared behind the Saxon, delivering a quick shot to the head.

Arthur exhaled as Gwen caught Lance with one hand, hauling him away with what would normally be dexterous grace. After that fight, though, it was really just exhausted resignation.

“Let ‘em go,” he said, gesturing to the trapped ghouls. “They won’t be back anytime soon.”

The people of Camelot nodded and stepped aside, letting them hurry away. Arthur limped over to Lance and Gwen, slinging Lance’s arm around his shoulders to help support him.

“Shit, Lance,” he said. “Glad you’re okay.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Can we at least  _ try _ not to do that again?”

“No--uh, no promises,” Lancelot said, trying to smile and failing miserably. “Ugh, my head doesn’t feel too good.”

“We’ll get you patched up.” Gwen pressed a kiss to Lance’s cheek, ignoring the sweat and assorted bits of viscera.

“Thanks, Gwennie,” Lance said. “What would I do without you?”

“Not much. You’d probably be dead.”

“I resent that!”

Arthur leaned his head against Lance’s, staring off into the distance.

“What’s on your mind?” Gwen asked.

He looked away. “Nothing. Just glad we’ve got each other.”


End file.
